


i'll blossom for you

by Syster



Series: No Drug Like Me [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, Jackson has a vagina and is very much male, M/M, Voyeurism, minor Jackson Wang/Everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syster/pseuds/Syster
Summary: “Mark-hyung?” Jackson says, squinting a bit, some cleansing foam still stuck to the side of his face, rivulets of water running down his forearms and neck, tracing over the chiseled plains of his chest, “Uh, what are you —”“Hi, Jacks,” Mark says with a chipper grin, all wide and feral, making Jackson blink as Mark crowds into his personal space. It doesn’t make Jackson uncomfortable at all (extroverts, Mark thinks, inwardly rolling his eyes), merely makes him look slightly perplexed, “Wanna fuck?”or; after an ordinary day filming boyfriendols-videos, Mark wins a game and claims his prize.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: No Drug Like Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110158
Comments: 27
Kudos: 70





	i'll blossom for you

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd.
> 
> title from no drug like me by CRJ
> 
> this is somewhat the third part in the series "no drug like me", but you don't really need to read the other parts to get this one.

Being an idol involves a lot of things that are difficult to put on a resumé, but this has to be one of the more difficult things to explain. Put succinctly, being an idol involves a lot more than ‘just’ making music, it involves crafting yourself into an image that is both agreeable and, above all, marketable. So, for example, doing videos where you act like someone’s boyfriend is pretty par for the course. Mark doesn’t like it much, but he knows that he’s cute, so he relies pretty heavily on that. He can get pretty far on just biting his bottom lip and showing off his canines, which is great.

But today, they’re leaning into their secondary genders, which means that there is more playacting involved. Jinyoung builds a chair while gently cradling a honeydew melon, purring under his breath the entire time. Jaebeom sings softly to the same melon while organizing a bookcase. Mark is tasked with carefully constructing a blanket-based nest, making sure that the melon is very protected against things like cold and predators. Bambam and Yugyeom get to do theirs together, which feels like cheating, both of them seductively staring into the camera as they warm the melon acting as an egg-substitute (in accordance to South Korea’s frankly _weird_ censorship laws) in between their curled bodies. It takes about fourteen takes until they aren’t cracking each other up, but they get there in the end.

Perhaps they all should just be thankful they don’t have to do any mating dances this time around because those are always mortifying to do outside of a rut.

Youngjae, meanwhile, gets to do the ordinary beta-thing of trilling low comfort notes while baring his sharp teeth, showing just how good he’d be at protecting a nest and then how competently he would sing an alpha to rest. As for Jackson, he usually plays at the beta thing, but this time the director has a different idea, which he tells all of them while they’re all getting ready.

“According to our research, you’ve been gaining a lot of popularity amongst female alphas and we think we could really corner a bit of the market if we play into that,” the director had said with all the weird enthusiasm of a man whose job is to film pretty people acting soft towards different egg-shaped objects, “So, we have a different approach today,” the director had continued, motioning towards a set with an already constructed nest, soft pillows tucked high, fairy lights gently draped across it. The whole thing looking very much like something plucked wholesale from Pinterest.

Jackson had blinked at it with a bit of bemusement but was ultimately game to do it, which hadn’t really surprised anyone. You can get Jackson to do pretty much anything if you praise him enough and the director had not been shy about that part at all, lavishing Jackson with odd, condescending praise, which had made the rest of them bite down snarls.

So, that’s how they get here. The six of them are watching Jackson sit on top of a mass of soft pillows, his hair fluffed up to curl around the edges of his high cheekbones, his makeup done to enhance the natural large roundness of his eyes. Jackson is wearing something large and oversized that doesn’t do much to hide his broadness but does make him look very soft.

“They’re overdoing it, aren’t they?” Jinyoung mutters underneath his breath, “And besides, why did we spend the entire morning building a nest if they weren’t even going to use it.” Which, yeah, fair. Mark generally doesn’t have the same kind of possessive streak that Jinyoung does, but he does agree with that, and there is an answering mutter of agreement from the rest of them as well (except Youngjae, who just rolls his eyes at the lot of them).

“Roll over on your back,” the director instructs as Jackson kind of paws at the pillows, his teeth firmly chomped onto his bottom lip to stop from laughing from when he was told to hug them to his chest and blink into the camera, “And bare your throat, please.”

Mark thinks, for a moment, about ripping the director's throat out. The thought is so vivid he blanks at it, quickly pushing it away.

“Without even buying me dinner first?” Jackson snorts but does as he’s asked, rolling over on his back, stretching the long, muscular line of his body to bare his neck. Doing that, Jackson also manages to kick out a leg to bump against one of the pegs keeping the entire blanket nest up, making some of it tumble down, “Shit —” Jackson starts, scrambling up to catch the falling edge, “— _fuck_ —” he continues, when realizing he just swore, and then just braying into outrageous laughter as the blankets fall completely around him, covering him completely, “- fucking hell!” Jackson keeps laughing as he gets help to get out of the fallen nest, one of his legs stuck in a string of fairy lights. In the end, he’s untangled and while sitting on top of a ruined nest, he blinks into the camera, face flushed and big eyes still dancing with laughter, giving a wide grin as he rumbles his chest into a deep, raspy purr.

Mark swallows tightly, forcing his own, instinctive, answering purr down. He hears part of Jaebeom’s purr slip out though before the younger man quickly swallows it as well.

“Well, okay, that was —” the director says, sighing and rubbing a hand over his eyes, “— Fine. I think we have enough footage to make it work, at least?”

“Sorry, director-nim,” Jackson grins, looking a mix between apologetic and deeply amused, “I’m really not good at the omega thing,” he looks over at the alpha assistant who has started to pick up the fallen pieces of the nest, “Sorry about your nest, it was really nice. Deserved a better omega than me in it!” he tells her, once again breaking into awkward laughter, jumping up to his feet and moving towards the rest of his group with a bit of a grimace on his face.

“Ah, I fucked that up, didn’t I?” he sighs, stretching his body into a yawn, blinking his stupidly large eyes, still wearing the enormous, oversized sweatshirt that hangs down over his hands. Jackson’s a fucking — he’s an Olympic athlete, Mark’s pretty sure he could benchpress every single one of them, or at least legpress them, he has no right looking soft, adorable and delectable, “They’re making me change my clothes in a separate changing room too,” Jackson rolls his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off the well-defined lines of his forearms, which somehow makes the pounding behind Mark’s eyes worse, “It’s like they forget we share a dorm.”

Jackson sighs, giving a wide smile and pats Mark over the chest, a quick playful little hit, “Meet you by the car, yeah?”

Without waiting for their response, Jackson hums as he walks away, tugging off the shirt before even being behind the closed door of his changing room, his tan, muscular back flexing as he stretches his arms over his chest before disappearing behind the changing room door.

Without a word, Mark and the rest of the boys (including Youngjae, who hasn’t stopped smiling the entire time) turn to each other, quickly doing a game of rock-paper-scissors. It takes them three tries until Mark is crowned the winner, and he snaps his teeth at Yugyeom who has the audacity to whine at him for it. Mark feels the thrum of victory course through his veins, more so than he’s felt in a couple of honest-to-god brawls.

He quickly opens the door to Jackson’s changing room and slips inside, giving the rest of the group a sharp-toothed grin before letting the door fall shut behind him.

Jackson looks up from where he’s washing his face, his fringe pulled back and up with a scrunchie, blinking to focus his gaze when he hears the door opening and closing.

“Mark-hyung?” he says, squinting a bit, some cleansing foam still stuck to the side of his face, rivulets of water running down his forearms and neck, tracing over the chiseled plains of his chest, “Uh, what are you —”

“Hi, Jacks,” Mark says with a chipper grin, all wide and feral, making Jackson blink as Mark crowds into his personal space. It doesn’t make Jackson uncomfortable at all (extroverts, Mark thinks, inwardly rolling his eyes), merely makes him look slightly perplexed, “Wanna fuck?”

Jackson’s eyebrows shoot up and he tilts his head before leaning forward, carefully sniffing the air around Mark, probably looking for any sign of rut or fever. But Mark’s scent is clean and only tinted with arousal, and nothing else. Mark lets him with a decidedly amused air, thrumming with growing arousal. Jackson squints up at him, folding and putting down the towel he’s been using to wash up with.

“Why?” Jackson says, slowly, sending a glance towards the door, probably to make sure it’s closed. And when Mark steps closer, grins a bit wider, letting want and arousal color his scent and flare into the flush forming on his neck. Jackson only swallows in response, his own scent growing a little sweeter.

“No reason,” Mark says, mildly in a way people think is very like him until they know him, “Let me eat you out, a-Jia,” on that last sentence, he lowers his voice into a crooning purr, putting a lot of secondary reverb behind it. Jackson blinks at him and then his tongue darts out, wetting his lips, his scent flaring from its usual sweet neutrality to heated spiced honey.

“You — what —” Jackson splutters as Mark steps even closer, shoving his hands down Jackson’s pants and underwear, grasping his ass firmly. Jackson’s breath hiccoughs at that, but he places his hands on Mark’s shoulders, accepting Mark’s lead so easily — Mark purrs, low and deep, in satisfaction to that, “— hyung!” Jackson shivers, his face splotching into red warmth as Mark noses into the side of his neck.

“I liked the shirt,” Mark smiles, “It was pretty,” predictably, the compliment makes some of the tension leave Jackson’s shoulders, makes him look a bit less suspicious, “You look good, surrounded by soft things.”

“Yi- _en_ ,” Jackson whines, low and sulky, even as he bends his head to let Mark nip at his throat, taste at the heated skin, “ _That_ does it for you? Watching me tear down a nest?” His bottom lip sticks out, plump and lovely, and Mark grins as he leans forward to press a kiss against Jackson’s pink lips, licking the pout away with a quiet hum as he kneads Jackson’s ass in his hands, pulling him a bit closer, pressing Jackson’s broad chest to his.

“Watching you tear down a shitty nest,” Mark murmurs, “You never tore down _my_ nest,” and none of the others’ either, if their testimonials are to be believed.

“Because you and the others know not to put fairy lights in a nest that’s to contain me,” Jackson sighs, shifting his stance, leaning a bit forward so that Mark can reach better, can trace the cleft off his ass, chase the heat of his cunt, “Can this wait though? We have a car —”

“Sorry, gaga,” Mark purrs, nipping at Jackson’s cheek, watching Jackson’s eyelashes flutter as Mark presses one thigh in between Jackson’s thicker ones, Jackson’s hitching breath stoking the slow-burning flame of Mark’s burgeoning desire, “No can do. But we’ll be quick,” _-ish_ , he adds, mentally. Jackson raises an eyebrow, but Mark waggles his own in response. Jackson gives one of his weird, snorting giggles, resting a hand on Mark’s chest.

“It’s been years since I was fucked in a locker room,” Jackson mutters, switching into a low, crooning coo as Mark scrunches up his face and nuzzles their noses together, “It’s nostalgic, if nothing else.”

Mark does not understand Jackson’s insistence of bringing up someone outside the pack fucking him, because it keeps happening, but he suspects it might be to stoke jealousy, to make Mark’s grip turn stronger and a bit more punishing. Mark growls, low and deep, muttering in acquiescent as Jackson gives a soft, soothing coo with a lot of laughter behind it. Mark captures Jackson’s lips in a biting kiss, smirking as Jackson gasps into it. He starts pushing Jackson back towards the bench in the middle of the locker room.

“I’ll have marks for days,” Jackson says in between kisses, raising his hips to let Mark pull off his already unbuttoned jeans and underwear, leaning back bare-assed against the thin, gapped planks off the locker-room bench, carding a hand through Mark’s hair as he settles between Jackson’s legs.

“Good,” Mark answers, pressing a kiss to Jackson’s knee, running his hands down the outside curve of Jackson’s thick thighs, his eyes flickering up to meet Jackson’s dark, flushed gaze. Jackson swallows, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he spreads his thighs a bit further apart, leaning back, the gleaming lips of his pussy finally visible.

“Wet already, gaga?” Mark murmurs low under his breath, bringing a hand to gently card through the wet, neatly kept curly hair covering Jackson’s vulva, smirking as Jackson’s breath hitches at that simple, fleeting touch, “You smell good,” Mark continues, pressing a kiss to Jackson’s inner thigh, at the sensitive skin a golden shade lighter than the rest of him.

“Fuck,” Jackson swears, breath stuttering in his chest as he runs a hand through Mark’s dark hair, his gaze a bit wild as he catches Mark’s eyes, watching Mark lick his lips, showing his canines as a bit of a treat, “Your fucking mouth, Yi-en.”

“Mm,” Mark agrees, nipping at Jackson’s inner thigh, chuckling as that makes the thick muscle jump slightly underneath his lips and touch, “My fucking mouth.”

Mark settles down on his knees, keeping a hand on the thigh of one of Jackson’s legs, spreading him wider. He grins, watching as Jackson’s pussy clenches in anticipation, the quick, quivering motion shivering out into Jackson’s thighs. Mark curls his fingers over Jackson’s thigh, lets his nails dig into the plush flesh. Mark uses his other hand to run a scratch of a touch down Jackson’s muscular waist, feeling each jump and twitch of Jackson’s muscles following the path of his hand, ending with it on Jackson’s front, letting it weigh heavy on the sensitive, thin skin of Jackson’s lower stomach. He smells, rather than sees, the slow pulse of slick drip out of Jackson’s cunt, and he just hums as the scent hits his nose, letting it feed and enhance his own swelling lust.

All of that just from the shivering anticipation, of feeling Mark’s breath against his skin. Mark leans closer, exhales a hot, deliberate puff of air over Jackson’s vulva, smirking as it clenches in response, as Jackson’s hand tightens in his hair and his breath hitches.

“You’re so easy,” Mark purrs, warming the words with a vibrating note of his secondary vocal cords, “I could probably just sit here and watch you work yourself into a tiff just from me looking alone,” another clench of Jackson’s cunt, the rosy pink of his inner lips glistening with wet slick.

“Probably,” Jackson agrees hoarsely, voice catching on the word, “But you aren’t mean like that, are you?”

“Not today,” Mark answers mildly, with a lot of dark intent behind it, leaning forward again, pressing a kiss over the mons of Jackson’s cunt, nipping just a bit at the skin, hearing Jackson’s responding gasp. He presses another couple of open-mouthed wet kisses against the curly hair, lowering his shoulders as he dips lower, using his free hand to spread the lips of Jackson’s cunt apart, nosing closer. He gives a shaky exhale as another slow rush of slick drips down Jackson’s cunt, staining Jackson’s thighs, dripping into the cleft of his ass. Mark groans a bit, because fuck, Jackson smells so good, smells like his, smells like pack.

“Yi-en,” Jackson’s whine is low and raspy, it’s hoarse vibrato lingering against the stark locker-room walls, “C’mon, don’t —”

“We’ll get there,” Mark scrapes his teeth against the sensitive, shivering skin where thigh meets groin, licking over the same place soothingly, “Patience.”

“You said we’d be quick,” Jackson murmurs, tightening the hold of his fingers in Mark’s hair, “You said —”

“We’ll _get_ there,” Mark puffs a breath of air against the contour of Jackson’s cunt, flickering his gaze up to meet Jackson’s large, dark eyes, “Trust me.”

“Trust me, he says,” Jackson mutters, shifting his weight to press his cunt a little bit forward, making the glistening shape and curve of it all the more visible, “Sure, I’ll fucking trust you when —” he yelps as Mark pinches his thigh, “Hey!”

“No whining,” Mark scoffs, which is useless, because half of Jackson’s vocal register is a plethora of whines, but still. Before Jackson can start again, he noses up against Jackson’s mons, his lips brushing against the hood of Jackson’s clit, and whatever Jackson was going to whine about next is lost in a hitch of breath. Mark traces his fingers over Jackson’s thigh, presses the hand on Jackson’s stomach down, feeling the answering shiver of Jackson’s cunt just a hair's breadth away. Jackson runs so fucking warm. Mark swears he can feel the heat of Jackson’s cunt, even though he’s barely touching it he can feel the way it runs fever-hot.

Mark licks a broad stripe over the outer lips of Jackson’s cunt, groaning as he feels the slightly bitter taste of Jackson’s slick more properly, smiling as Jackson’s fingers tighten in his hair. He flicks his gaze up, sees Jackson’s flushed, red face staring down at him, his eyes wide, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth. Mark keeps their gazes locked as he presses another wet kiss to the top of Jackson’s cunt, slowly tracing his tongue and lips down in something like a caress.

“Please,” Jackson whimpers, the word sounding a bit rushed out, as though he hadn’t really known he was going to say it, “I can’t — Please, hyung.”

Mark hums, flattening his tongue and presses it tight against Jackson’s cunt, hearing the hiccough of a breath Jackson gives in response. He lowers his head, giving a broad, steady pressured lick along Jackson’s arousal-swollen pussy, increasing the strength as he goes higher, the tip of his tongue rubbing against the bottom of Jackson’s clit. Jackson gasps, Mark feels the tension of it in the hand he holds on Jackson’s stomach.

Mark keeps the pressure steady as he continues, only increasing it right before the swollen nub of Jackson’s clit, slowing the movement as the pressure increases. Jackson quivers into a moan, feeling each rib and texture of Mark’s tongue against the sensitive nerves. His fingers trembling in Mark’s hair, his other hand grasping the edge of the bench with white-knuckled strength.

In a steady, unwavering pace, Mark laves his tongue over Jackson’s cunt, teasing the clit with each broad stroke of his wet tongue, keeping his grip tight on Jackson’s thigh and stomach, feeling each little aborted movement Jackson tries to make.

“Ah —” Jackson moans, it rasping low out of his chest, “ _Ah_ —” his body tenses, his cunt clenching as he drips with slick, making Mark’s tongue chase friction over the wet, quivering folds of his cunt, “Hyung —” He whimpers, trying to press his entire body closer to Mark’s tongue.

Mark hums, the sound muffled against Jackson’s flush skin, his tongue steady, his rhythm unchanging, maddingly consistent, almost ruthless in his single-minded focus. Jackson’s cunt clenches around nothing, the movement of it in tandem to Mark’s unwavering pace. At the next lick of Mark’s tongue against Jackson’s clit, unhooded and swollen, Jackson whines a whimpering, pleading sound, reverbing it through his chest, his back arching as he ends it in a gasp, pressing Mark’s head closer to his cunt.

There is a muffled shit from the other side of the closed door, a clatter of movement and Jackson startles, gasping as he twists towards the sound, tensing as Mark doesn’t let go of his grip whatsoever.

“Mark —” Jackson’s breath stutters as Mark presses his tongue against Jackson’s cunt again, licking up the clenching rush of slick, a sudden burst of hushed whispers breaking out on the other side of the door, “What —”

“It’s their consolation prize,” Mark grins sharply, looking up at Jackson, licking his reddened lips contentedly before tugging Jackson back in front of him, both hands now gripping the flush of Jackson’s thick thighs, fingers and nails digging into the flesh, “Let them hear.”

“W-wait —” Jackson whimpers as Mark locks his lips over Jackson’s clit, sucking the swollen nub in between his lips, keeping it there as he uses his tongue to press against it, working back into his previous rhythm, “Hyung, they’re right there, they — “ Jackson whimpers and curls his entire body over Mark’s head, as though trying to curl up in shame even as he presses Mark’s head closer against the wet, clenching heat of his pussy.

Mark could answer, but he’s never been a man to waste words, and he’s already explained enough. Let them hear, he mutters through a low, vibrating growl of a purr, let them fucking hear him pleasing their omega. He grasps Jackson’s thighs tighter, pulling him closer, the bench clattering as the force of the pull moves the entire thing. Jackson leans back on his forearms, gasping as he arches his back, whimpering as he tries to swallow the escaping sounds to no avail.

With another few heated, rushing moments of Mark’s steady pace of suction and tongue, Jackson starts to tense, panting and whimpering, his heavy thighs quivering with the building tension of his impending orgasm. Mark feels the heat and rush in his very blood, feels every moan and gasp tremble through his very bones, making the deep-seated ferality of his nature purr in deep-rooted satisfaction.

In a hitched gasp and shivering whine, Jackson starts to cum, his entire back arching off the wooden bench, his legs straining against Mark’s biting grip. Mark pants, presses his cheek against Jackson’s thigh, presses his hand down over his own throbbing, heavy arousal as he licks soothingly at the outer lips of Jackson’s cunt, still trembling from Jackson’s orgasm.

“Hyung,” Jackson’s breaths still come in hitched staccato, but he shoves at Mark’s head, making Mark blink dazedly as he moves away. Jackson slides himself down onto the floor, groaning as he touches the cold floor, “Fuck me, c’mon, fuck me, ah —” his body tenses as he shivers with oversensitivity, turning himself over, grasping onto the bench, and going up on his knees, arching his back low as he spreads his legs, thighs glistening with gushing slick.

Mark scrambles up, pushing his pants down enough to release his achingly hard cock, runs his hand down the side of Jackson’s ribs as he lines himself up, pressing the thick head of his cock into the hot, wet clutch of Jackson’s pussy. He leans over Jackson’s back, growling low and deep in his chest, Jackson’s answering purr rasping out in between the pants falling from his pink lips.

With one steady, hard thrust, he sheathes himself inside Jackson completely, whining a bit apologetically as Jackson gives a pain-laced gasp and whimper, still reeling from his own release. But Jackson coos back in comfort, spreading his legs a bit wider as he arches his back down further. Jackson looks over his shoulder, his large eyes contentedly hooded, eyelashes fluttering as Mark starts to fuck into him. If Mark wasn’t so worked up, wasn’t thrumming with heat and lust, he’d almost be embarrassed at how quickly he starts to feel his own release building. He thrusts into Jackson with a couple of strong, irregular thrusts, too deep into his own desire to steady his pace, while Jackson pants and whines so prettily. Mark can scent the arousal of his pack on the other side of the door, mixing with the delicious scent of their omega, bringing them together.

Mark groans as he cums with one last stroke, his knot faltering to form out of rut, trembling as he shoots thick ropes of cum into Jackson’s clenching heat. He leans forward, presses his forehead between Jackson’s shoulder blades, panting tight and hot against the skin. Jackson reaches back to grasp at the hand Mark has on his hip, interlacing their fingers, stroking his thumb over the side of Mark’s hand.

When Mark starts to soften, he slips out from Jackson’s wet heat, some of his release dripping out at the same time. He hums softly as he idly plays with the thought of making Jaebeom come in and lick Mark’s cum out of Jackson’s cunt, because Jaebeom would love that, Mark’s pretty sure. Yugyeom could hold Jackson meanwhile, which Yugyeom would love —

His thoughts are cut short as Jackson groans, standing up to his feet. He grimaces as he stretches out his back with a pop. His thighs are wet with his own slick and Mark’s cum, and Mark feels a very ingrained gratification at the scent and sight, watching it trickle down the curve of Jackson’s muscular legs. He growls, a bit absentmindedly, when Jackson grabs the towel from before, moving to wipe the mess away.

“Oh, stop that,” Jackson mutters as he shivers a bit wiping the wet towel over his still sensitive thighs and cunt, “I stink.”

“I know,” Mark answers smugly, which makes Jackson chuck the towel at his head with an indignified yelp. Mark catches it out of the air with flair, which doesn’t exactly help the smugness. Jackson just snaps his teeth, and Mark grins widely right back as Jackson picks up his jeans and pulls them on, having to jump a bit to get his thighs past the waistline before buttoning them up. Jackson sighs and runs a hand through his hair, tugging the strands into a semblance of order before pulling on his long-sleeved t-shirt. He looks over to Mark, who’s sitting on the floor, head tilted, watching him.

Jackson rolls his eyes, but it’s ruined by the flush of his cheeks and the fondness reverberating through his next words, “Ah, when you get your proper omega, hyung —” he snorts, even as his words turn a bit wistful, a bit longing and vulnerable. The words make Mark blink and narrow his eyes, “— the stories I will be able to tell them, huh?”

“Jacks —” Mark starts, because what? Mark already has his proper omega, currently standing in front of the narrow window lacing his shoes while stinking like the two of them, but his next words on the subject are lost as Jackson leans up, unlatching the window and throwing it open, “— what are you doing?”

“No way in hell I’m walking out there with the lot of them waiting, I could die of shame,” Jackson says, chirping oddly cheerfully as he starts to heave himself up into the narrow slit of the window, groaning as he hooks one leg over the edge of it, “So, you know, have fun getting home, I’m taking the fucking car, and you perverts can all _rot_ on the subway,” He glances back, gives a wide grin, “See you at home, hyung.”

Mark blinks as Jackson simply escapes through the window, landing on the other side with a thud. He listens to the disappearing footsteps for a while before getting up, straightening his clothes as he mulls over what Jackson just said, a lot of things suddenly coming into startling clarity.

He opens the door, making the rest of the group on the other side tumble into the room with varying sounds of indignity and poorly disguised arousal. Only Youngjae escapes the entire display with some semblance of grace, having not been pressed tightly against the door when Mark opened it.

“Where’s Jackson-hyung?” Bambam asks, blinking from where he’s fallen on the floor, nose flaring as he takes in the thick scent of sex in the air.

“He left through the window,” Mark shrugs, and, like, it’s not the first time it happens, so the rest of the group takes it with only a bit of bemusement, “Hey, do you think Jackson knows he’s ours?” Mark frowns, watching as his group members all exchange surprised blinks and glances.

“Well, he... has to, right?” Jinyoung says slowly, “I mean, we’ve all spent ruts with him?”

“And like, we scent him all the time,” Yugyeom grimaces as he sits up from the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck, “And Bammie keeps wearing stupid outfits to impress him.”

“They’re not stupid,” Bambam huffs, turning his nose up primly, “They’re Gucci.”

“Jinyoung-ah dances for him too —” Jaebeom starts as Jinyoung hisses and interrupts.

“ _Once_! I was going into rut, and you promised you wouldn’t tell —”

“— but even without that, it’s... obvious, isn’t it?” Jaebeom says, furrowing his brow. There is a beat of silence.

“Well, have any of you told him?” Youngjae grins into the conversation, bursting into laughter as they all start to glance accusingly at each other, even rounding glares onto Youngjae who throws up his hands with a crinkling chuckle, “Don’t look at me, I’m just the beta, it’s not my responsibility to uphold pack dynamics.”

“I don’t think he knows,” Mark finishes with a frown, looking down at his hands. The words settle into the air around them and the somberness of them is only slightly ruined by how their eyes keep flicking towards the towel still lying on the ground next to the bench.

“We’ll talk to him,” Jinyoung says, getting up from the ground dusting off his trousers, “We can start in the car, get the conversation going —”

“Yeah, about that —” Mark sighs, “— I’ve got something to tell you.”

At least they’ll have a lot of time to plan the conversation on the subway. Silver lining, and all that.

**Author's Note:**

> .... english is, like, my fourth language guys. this was so hard to write, but i bravely ventured on because mark deserved to eat some pussy and jackson deserved to be eaten out. it had to happen. now i can finally rest.
> 
> will i ever write an idol-verse fic where they aren't like, all in a relationship with each other on the down low? probably not.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> the honeydew melon in the beginning of the chapter is stand in for the egg omegas lay and then alphas keep warm while betas fight predators off. if you want to imagine jinyoung doing a mating dance, please look up paradise birds on youtube. 
> 
> if you want to see me spreading the bird/hyena/cat hybrid abo agenda, please leave a comment. it really keeps me going through tough times like when i have to sit down and look at english anatomical charts of a vagina.
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


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